


Industrial Strength

by hssg (mmmdraco)



Category: Hanson, The Moffatts
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/hssg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lost chapter to Aspen's Hanson/Moffatts opus, "Devil Angel".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Industrial Strength

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have any right to make these boys engage in what they're engaging in.

"Ow! Damn it..." 

Bob sighed. "Clint, they're your shoes. You threw them off before I tied you up." 

Clint glared at him. "Well, I wouldn't even be in this position if it weren't for Isaac." 

Throwing on a shirt, Bob glared back. "He just asked if you wanted to join in. You knew exactly what you were in for." 

"Yeah, well, notice how he's the one who had to leave the room when blood got involved." Clint rolled his eyes, staring Bob down. 

Bob picked up the shoe at his feet and threw it at Clint, who flinched when it flew past his ear to land on the couch behind him. "Yeah, well, notice how you were the one asking to bleed." 

Clint gaped. "It was purely a heat of the moment thing!" 

A shirt flew through the air. "You begged for an hour straight for us to draw blood!"" 

"I most certainly did not!" He cried, struggling to stand, when a wave of dizziness hit him and he sank back down. 

Bob rolled his eyes and picked Clint up and pushed him back onto the couch. "Yes, you did. We got it on tape and watched while you were sleeping. Issac timed it." 

Pouting, Clint crossed his arms, "You shouldn't have let me sleep. It made me sore." 

"It wasn't the sleep that made you sore." 

"It allowed the soreness to multiply..." he argued. 

Another shirt flew through the air, hitting Clint in the face. "It did not allow the soreness to multiply. You just got too much into it last night so it didn't hurt then." 

"Last night you weren't throwing shirts and shoes at me either, Bob." His gaze was pointed, and Bob averted his eyes. 

"No. I was just biting you as hard as I could because you asked for it." A pair of boxers landed on the bed. 

Clint sighed, "I think you're over-exaggerating again." 

"Camera." Bob reminded him. 

Clint sighed again and let his head fall against the wall. "I don't know if I want to see this tape, ever. You make it sound like I was some sex-crazed maniac with a thing for having someone draw blood from any part of my body." 

Bob snorted, "Yeah, that would pretty much sum it up." 

Clint lifted his head a bit to give Bob another glare, then let his head fall back again. "I do not enjoy having someone ravage my body." 

"But, Clint... That's the exact opposite of what you said last night! I can quote you as saying, 'I love having someone ravage my body,'." 

He groaned. "God, would you shut up about it? You act like it was some awful thing, and that I'm some weird freak. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it." 

Bob snatched a fallen piece of rope from the floor. "Clint, I enjoyed tying you up. I enjoyed biting every single fucking square inch of your body. I enjoyed fucking you until you bled. I enjoyed it and did it because you wanted it so bad. But, what I'm not enjoying is you trying to deny that it happened like we don't have proof that it did." 

"You think this is easy for me? Admitting that I did all that?" 

"No. I just think it would be easier for you if you did admit it. Just like I think it would be easier if we never mentioned it again." 

Clint folded and unfolded the shirt in his lap. "But, I don't want that." 

Bob looked over at Clint, fire and hurt showing alternately in his eyes. "So don't make such a big deal out of it, okay? Ever hear the term 'like having sex with your twin'? That's what happened to us last night. You can go on and on all you want about how much you really didn't enjoy it or how much it was just the heat of the moment, but that's not what it was and you know it. It meant a hell of a lot more than that to me. I don't fuck just anyone, Clint. Remember that next time you come knocking on my door with a shoe in hand asking me to hit you with it." 

Clint chewed his lip, letting the words sink in. "Bob, I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way." 

Tucking a piece of hair behind his ear, Bob sank down onto the bed. "I didn't either. I just knew something was off with what I was feeling so I just let the words flow. Sort of like you, only you wanted blood, not words." 

"Yeah..." 

The room was beginning to bear some semblance to order as Bob made his way around the room folding clothes and picking up fallen bondage tools. "Clint, why did you say yes?" 

Clint looked up from the shirt in his hands. "Hmm?" 

Bob cleared his throat. "When Isaac went over and asked you if you wanted to join us, why did you just walk over and knock on the door and say, 'Hey, Bob? Let me in. I want to get kinky.' And, then, well, that." 

Clint sighed and closed his eyes. "It just...happened. I didn't mean to be so forthcoming or whatever. That part actually was heat of the moment, although...I've been thinking about it for a while now." 

Bob walked over and sat next to Clint. "You have?" 

Clint flinched as the couch flexed beneath him. "Yeah. I've sort of had this on my mind for a few months now." 

The silence fulfilled a moment, then begged for words again. Bob answered the plea with one of his own. "Clint...You should have told me. We could have...I don't know...worked something out, I suppose. It's not exactly healthy to act like you did. You scared me. Ike didn't leave here last night because he couldn't take the blood...he left because he couldn't stand to look you in the eye." 

Clint tried to keep his expression subdued, but failed; his eyebrows knitting in confusion as he let his bottom lip slide between his teeth. "How could... No. I mean, exactly how bad was I?" 

Bob shook his head. "I don't think I could express it in words." 

Clint sighed, picking at a hangnail, "I'm sorry, Bob. Whatever I did, I'm sorry." 

More silence, then Bob's footsteps as he headed to the other side of the room. "You didn't do a whole lot. That's the thing. You did nothing beyond what I've already said and that's why it surprised me and scared me." 

"I didn't mean to scare you, Bob." He paused. "Surprise you, yes. Scare you, no. I mean, from what Isaac said, nothing should have really shocked you that much..." 

Bob turned away from Clint for a moment, staring at a painting in pastel shades that adorned the wall. "Yeah, well, I was at least a little bit prepared for that from him. We'd talked about it. It's been a gradual experimentation. With you, boom! All in two hours and 45 minutes." 

Clint smiled, a little, "Nice to know you guys are so precise." 

Bob walked over to the television, pressed a button and, a moment later, held up a video tape. "It was painful to watch, so we timed little things, memorized the actual dialogue. Tell me again why you wanted us to tape it?" 

Clint winced, looking at his hands. "Would you believe...proof?" 

"No. I wouldn't. Try me again or explain it." 

Squirming, he cast a wary glance at the black box in Bob's hands. "Um...voyeurism?" 

The black box loomed closer, the hard plastic reflecting the harsh light. "I'll believe that. But, give me the real reason. None of this hesitant bullshit." 

Clint groaned. "All right, fine. I wanted you to tape it because I wanted to relive it, Bob. I wanted to be able to replay every single moment, because I figured that I may never get another chance." 

Bob shook his head and held the tape out in front of him. "Why the hell would you do that, Clint? Did you honestly think that even if you could get me to do all of that, you couldn't get me to do it again?" 

Swiping at the box and missing, Clint shrugged. "I don't know. I thought it might be a one time only sort of deal...and I needed to make the most of it." 

Bob tossed the tape at Clint. "Yeah. You made the most of it, all right. God, I don't even know how I can stand to talk to you after all of the things you said 'in the heat of the moment'." 

Clint's eyes widened, "Like um...what?" 

Bob grabbed the tape back from Clint. "Like you'll find out because whether you like it or not, you wanted this tape for posterity and rememberance, so you're gonna watch the damn thing if I have to tie you down again and hold your eyes open so you'll damn well remember!" 

"Bob..." Clint whined. "Now?" 

A fire rose in Bob's eyes that aimed it's heat at Clint's heart. "Yes, now. What else have you go to do? Masturbate until your skin starts to peel away?" 

His eyes drooped once again. "Fine," he whispered. 

Bob pushed the video into the player and pressed play, then walked over to Clint and grabbed him by the tuft of blonde hair in front. "Oh, Clint, aren't you lucky? We rewound it last night." 

Clint cried out. "Bob, stop! You're hurting me!" 

Bob jerked Clint up by his hair until he was looking him right in the eye, seeing the tiny tears that threatened a crystalline suicide in Clint's eyes and feeling the smoldering anger in his own. "Funny. You didn't seem to mind last night." 

Jerking away slightly, Clint grimaced as Bob's vice grip tightened. "Do you want me to watch this or not?" 

Bob scowled at Clint for a moment. Then, a smile lit up his face, one corner of his mouth twitched slightly. He pulled Clint into a straight stand, then slapped him as hard as he could, the smile remaining. "It's not about what I want, Clint. It's about what you got and how much you wanted it then and how much you're objecting now. You're going to watch the video. You're going to enjoy it. You're going to sit there and take it as long as I feel like dishing it out and if you so much as say another word against it, I'm going to make you more shades of black and blue than the biggest box of Crayola there ever was. Got that?" 

Clint brought a hand to the side of his face, tears threatening in his eyes. Deciding it was better not answer, he simply nodded, backing away from Bob as much as he could. 

Bob seethed and dragged Clint over to the television, throwing him down on the floor. "Watch. Remember. Take notes if you have to." 

Pulling his knees to his chest, Clint sniffed and lay his unmarred cheek on one. 

Bob pulled up a chair and placed it backward behind Clint. He straddled the chair and smiled down on Clint. Clint felt the gaze and lifted a hand to cover the back of his head. As soon as he felt his own hair graze his palm, he felt a pair of handcuffs being slapped on his wrist and felt Bob pull them up and snap the other side onto the chair. His hearing seemed to be blocked by something, possibly anger, possibly hurt, possibly fear or maybe enjoyment. 

Clint whimpered, as he tried to twist his wrist to a more comfortable position, but found it to be useless, Bob had clamped it far too tight for there to be any movement. 

Bob reached down with both hands and grabbed the sides of Clint's head. He forced eye contact and shook his head softly, laughing just beneath his breath. "I thought you were supposed to watch? Guess we'll have to rewind it and that just means you'll be in here longer. And, don't even think of screaming. You know no one can hear you in this room unless they walk right past the door and then it's just like a whisper. Now, watch." 

Clint groaned as Bob snapped his head down so that his chin hit his knees and he was watching the scene on the television. The film ran back quickly, then began anew and Clint didn't bother to turn to know that Bob had a remote. He just kept his eyes focused on the screen where he knew he'd only see pain and not have to sense it. 

He tore his eyes away when the first image reappeared on the screen. Bob couldn't tell where his eyes were looking. This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to relive it this way. 

But, Bob could tell when Clint should be reacting to the film and knew right away that he wasn't when the television showed Clint on his knees, kissing Bob's feet and crying out, "Hurt me!" and Clint sat still, passive. Bob grabbed Clint's hair again and pulled his head back, once again forcing the eye contact he wouldn't get otherwise. "Clint, isn't this what you wanted? Isn't this why you set up a video camera before even bothering to ask whether we'd even touch you? You like the hurt, the pain...and now that you're getting it better than you'd ever even imagined, you're acting like a fucking pussy. You can't even look at yourself on the screen so why the hell should I have to look at you?" 

A pause filled the air and the little smile with an even smaller twitch crossed Bob's face again. "Oh, no. I don't have to look at you, do I? Because, I have lots of stuff here that I can cover you with. And, you're going to beg me for the one that you want." 

Clint shook his head fiercely. "Bob, no, I'll watch it...I swear. Please." 

Bob shook his head back at Clint, the smile claiming his face, but barely invading his eyes as he started to drag the chair across the room, the smile getting bigger every time Clint winced and struggled at the cuff of the chains. "No, you won't. I've already made that decision. Now, you get to make yours. I'm tying you up again because it was fun and I like fun. Only, when I tie you up, you'll barely be able to breathe. You get to choose what's wrapped around your head, preventing those pretty, bruised lips from getting damaged by the repulsive things you want to say." 

Shaking his head, Clint struggled against the handcuffs wildly. "Bob..." he began. "You can't. Please...please..." his voice reduced to a small whimper as he looked and saw the absolutely malicious gleam in his brother's eyes. "I...it's inhuman, Bob, don't...p-please?" 

Bob looked at him, meeting his gaze and not faltering. A low chuckle rose in his throat and reverbated, rising and forcing his mouth open into a faultless grin and filling Clint's ears and closing his eyes. "Last night when you begged it sounded so forced. I like it so much better like this. Just like you like it when I use you. Tell me you like it." 

Clint strained to control his breathing. "I don't...last night was different...I was different. Bob, I liked it then. Now I'm just tired, and sore, and scared." 

The gaze remained on him, growing stronger in it's intensity. "Oh, no. I can see it in your eyes. You're loving this. Loving when I abuse you. Abuse... What a lovely word. Right up there with violate, defile, molest, seduce, betray, profane, subverse... They're all lovely words, Clint. You make me remember them all. Now, tell me how you want it. Fast or slow or a nice breakneck speed that'll have you bleeding in no time?" 

Tears that had threatened to spill for ages finally came, as Clint broke down and wept. "Do whatever you want with me, just do it. Please." 

Bob reached down to where Clint was sprawled on the floor. Clint flinched away and confusion filled his eyes. Bob reached down and stroked Clint's cheek lovingly, noting the sharp contrast of the bruise in the shape of his hand that was forming on Clint's other cheek. "Now that's what I like to hear. Complete submission." 

Clint's eyes shone as he reflexively shied away from Bob's hand. He struggled to calm his nerves and stop the flow of tears. 

Bob continued stroking his face and gazing down at him. "Clint, don't bother to stop crying. You'll start back soon enough. It's what makes you beautiful." 

Wincing a little as Bob's fingers grazed an especially sensitive spot, Clint looked at him with wide, puzzled eyes. 

Bob trailed his gaze along Clint's body, taking time to run his fingers along the deeper wounds and darker bruises. "Clint, you're gorgeous when you bleed. I never knew that before. But, when your skin opens up, and the blood starts to flow, the Heavens start to call out for you, claiming you as their new God. Do you like being God?" 

Clint shivered under his eyes. "Mmm..." he moaned in response, moving his face against Bob's hand. 

"You're going to have fun tonight, Clint. This will be better than those sleepovers we used to have when we were kids." Bob kneeled down next to Clint and exposed his neck, still awash in purple from the previous night. He sank his teeth into the flesh, pulling a yowl from Clint, and drew blood, this time tasting it and licking the wound. Once the bleeding had stopped, though it only ran for a few moments, Bob kissed the wound and pulled back, his eyes closed and a peaceful expression muting his features. 

Clint moaned, the pain dulling as the blood flow ceased. Licking his lips, he unconsciously huddled closer to Bob. 

Bob grabbed Clint's shirt collar and pulled him up into a sitting position. "C'mon, Clint. If you want me to have to find some way to tie you to the floor, go ahead, but I'll be nice and let you get up on the bed while I go get the key to those handcuffs." 

Figuring that faster was better, Clint quickly hopped up on the bed, pulling the chair with him, and wincing as the cold silver once again cut into his wrist, rubbing the already marred skin away. 

Bob walked over to Clint, the malicious grin back in place, and a small key in hand. He climbed up on the bed and straddled Clint, then unlocked the side of the handcuffs which held him to the chair. Clint pulled the cuffs up to his chest and cradled his hand protectively, but Bob caught his eye and shook his head. Clint's eyes opened wide again as Bob grabbed the cuffs and hooked the chain around the pole connecting the bedposts. Bob reached down and grabbed Clint's other hand and spoke roughly into his ear. "Roll onto your stomach and don't even think of trying to go anywhere." 

Clint did as told, feeling shivers race across his body. Once he was in position. Bob jerked Clint's arm up next to the other one and snapped the cuff on, this one just as tight as the first. 

Clint closed his eyes, the strain of his upper body pulling down on his arms paining him, as the pressure on his wrists gave his hands the sensation that they were dead. 

Bob reached down and grabbed Clint's waist and pulled him up and onto one hip. Clint sighed in relief and then tensed as Bob's fingers went for his fly, undoing the zipper slowly and then pulling harshly on the scratchy fabric until the button gave way. 

It took Bob no more than a minute to harshly strip Clint of his jeans, discarding them carelessly to the floor. His eyes roved Clint's body hungrily, a small smile playing on his lips. 

The boxers which remained on Clint's form were bothering Bob, so he grasped the waistband and pulled them off in one quick movement, leaving Clint to gasp in agony as certain parts of his anatomy absorbed more shock than they were meant to. 

Bob smiled, pleased to see that despite Clint's earlier protests, he was having no problem appreciating his position now. 

But, Clint's skin beckoned, the bruises and broken skin captivating Bob, calling for him to grace that skin with more violent purple and ruby red and fill the air with cries and sobs and let the crystalline orbs, which would form in moments at the corners of Clint's eyes, fall to the silken sheets in blissful agony. 

Clint dropped his head, not wanting to meet Bob's gaze, for he was afraid of what he might see. He could almost feel the electricity course through his veins as Bob's eyes took in his every inch. 

Turning him back, so that the pressure once again rested on his bonds, Bob straddled Clint at the waist and purred softly, like a tiger surveying its catch. 

Clint whimpered when Bob kissed his shoulder softly, moaned when the boy nipped at tender skin, and cried out when harsh and grating fingernails were drawn down his marred back. Bob licked his lips as he watched the lacerations and bruises reignite themselves in a mingling of blood, lust, and tears. Clint bit down harshly on his lower lip as he felt his skin tear and bleed. When Bob lowered his mouth to suck harshly on a particularly painful cut, he felt as though salt were being poured into his open wound, as his face found the bedspread and he wept for his sheer helplessness. 

Clint moaned in agony when Bob's body pressed into his back roughly, laying himself flat atop him, and rubbing just enough that it was almost unbearable. Leaning to bite his earlobe, Bob spoke, and Clint could hear the malevolent laughter in his tone. "Wasn't there a reason I brought you over here?" 

Choosing not to answer, Clint simply lowered his head and hoped it was a rhetorical question. It was not, as he found out when Bob callously bit into his shoulder, before repeating the question. 

"You were..." he began. "You were going to tie me up." 

"Yes, Clint, I was." Bob agreed, running his tongue over the boy's warm flesh. "But I've already done that. Unless...there was something special I promised you." 

Clint shook under Bob's attacking tone, words and actions. "You...you said you would cover me and abuse me." 

A moan of discomfort as Bob bit into the side of Clint's neck. "Oh, but Clint...you've been such a bad boy. I don't know if I should cover you up at all. I should just use you and make you watch and make you bleed. We could have a little fun like that. A little game... I fuck you raw. You don't move. You don't speak. If you do, I smack you around a little, make you bleed even more. Sound like fun to you?" 

Clint whimpered. "No. Not really." 

Bob scowled and slammed the palm of his hand against the back of Clint's head. "Sorry...forgot to tell you. The little game already started. And, since you're naked and it'll make it so much more fun if I'm naked too, I'm going to get you all excited and then I'm going to go take a shower so that I can be clean when I make you dirty." 

Clint stifled a shudder and tensed his body as Bob rolled him over onto one side. He kept his eyes closed and tried not to concentrate on any particular part of his body, deciding that an overall dull pain was better than the tiny pin pricks of torture that invaded his mind when he concentrated on anything. But, even as he tried to lose focus, he felt Bob's fingers begin to trail across his skin, then adding a bit of pressure, spending extra time on the spots that caused Clint to tense even more. Finally, he reached Clint's member and trailed one finger delicately along it's length. "Oh, Clint... It's so beautiful. It's begging to be kissed. But, he can't talk, so I want to hear you talk for him. Beg me to give your little friend a kiss." 

Clint's eye clenched shut as he felt Bob's warm breath on his member and felt a tiny flick of tongue pass along his flesh. "Please, Bob. Give him a kiss." 

Bob made a tiny clicking sound with his tongue. "Oh, no, Clint. Beg. Shout it to the ceiling, struggle at your bonds." 

Clint cried out infrustration as Bob took his length in hand and began to stroke. "God, Bob! Why are you doing this to me? Please!" 

Bob stopped the gentle stroking and lowered his lips to Clint's member, engulfing him in a pleasure that eased the pain until such time as he was beginning to feel his resistance wear down and felt himself climbing up onto the platform of orgasm, almost ready to leap down over the other side in a plunging rush. But that was when Bob pulled away, flipped Clint onto his back and patted him on the thigh. "I'll be going to take that shower now. Don't move until I come back. You won't like it at all if you do. Not...at...all." 

Clint's head dropped as the bathroom door clicked shut behind Bob. Determined in his resolve to obey, he struggled internally to keep from trying to release himself. An almost pleasant grey fog had settled over his senses when a ringing jarred his senses. The phone, sitting on the table next to him, had begun to ring. 

Clint moaned, listening to the phone ring and not being able to answer it. After the ring echoed a good dozen times, it cut off, leaving Clint with the realization that no one else was in the suite and whoever had been on the phone had given up, figuring that they were all gone, no doubt. Bob could kill him and no one would be the wiser until someone decided that he'd been in his room for a little too long and by then, Bob could have disposed of his body. That thought sent blood pumping through his veins, his head faintly pulsing with the idea, scaring him more than he'd ever thought possible. 

Unable to control his thoughts, his mind continued poring over the horrifying possibilities. His breathing sped up, becoming more erratic with each passing moment, until he was fairly hyperventilating, while berating himself mentally for not being able to do the simple thing Bob had asked of him. 

Clint was beginning to feel as though he might pass out if Bob didn't hurry up. If he was going to die, he wanted it over with. If he was going to orgasm, he wanted to get on with it. But, either way, the wait and unknowing was more torture than anything Bob had even threatened to do to him thus far. 

He could hear the shower faintly running, and sighed in relief when the water stopped, wincing as a bead of sweat ran from his forehead to burn his eye before he could close it. He was to a point so desperate that he would have asked Bob to bleed him dry over waiting in agony for some sort of absolution. 

A moment later, Bob walked out of the bathroom, naked and fairly glistening as he squeezed a majority of the water out of his hair. As Clint watched him, his head leaned off to one side, he was mesmerized. Bob moved with such grace. Even blinking was an art with him. Tiny water droplets traced the outlines of muscles and fell to the floor, dripping like they were losing life. Clint closed his eyes to this site when he found it turned him on that much more and he hadn't lost any hardness in the time that Bob had been gone. 

"Did I hear the phone?" Bob's voice broke the silence. 

Clint nodded slowly. "Yeah." 

Bob crawled up on the bed, letting errant drops of water fall onto Clint's torso. "And, did you answer it?" 

Clint took a deep breath, engulfed in the sensual pleasure of the cool droplets on his skin, then shook his head slowly, feeling his eyes shut slowly. 

"Why not?" Bob asked, trailing a finger up and down Clint's stomach, breathing hotly on his neck. 

Clint licked his lips, letting one lip slide against his teeth slowly. "Because you told me not to move and if I'd answered the phone, I would have been moving." 

Bob laughed. "Oh, how nice. Well, would you have answered it with your feet?" 

Clint felt a hot blush rise to his cheeks, "Well, maybe I could have um...knocked it off the table?" 

Bob laughed a little harder this time, "And shouted hello to whomever was on the other end?" 

"Well...you asked me why I didn't answer it!" 

Bob shook his head, a light-hearted grin distorting his features for a moment, but quickly returning to an icy gaze. "Yeah. But, I expected you to say that it was because your hands were tied, not because I told you not to move." 

"Regardless of where my hands were..." Clint began. "Not moving was my first objective." He winced slightly as Bob's head snapped in his direction, a small smile playing on his lips. 

"And you're still not moving, right, Clint? I never said the game was over." 

Clint felt one of Bob's hands begin to climb up one side of his chest, nails trailing over flesh and breaking it ever-so-slightly. "Bob... You said I couldn't move. You didn't say I couldn't talk." 

Bob reached out with the other hand and stroked one side of Clint's face, then let one finger fall to his lips to trace them harshly. "But, Clint, you're no ventriloquist. I'm sure you must have moved when you talked. That nice little tongue of yours has had too much of a workout, so we're going to take it a step further and make the strongest muscle in your body ache the most." 

Clint clamped his mouth and eyes shut as Bob advanced upon him, firguring he was already screwed enough by having moved at all. 

Bob leaned down and took the lobe of Clint's ear into his mouth. He nibbled it lightly at first, letting warm breath fall on the side of Clint's face. But, then the bit down hard enough to cause pain, but not to imitate Mike Tyson. "I know I just had a shower, but they say that you get this little film of soap that stays on you after a shower that eventually causes wrinkles. So, you're going to give your mouth a little washing by licking every inch of my skin. Doesn't that sound like fun?" 

Clint opened his eyes slightly, and sighed almost inaudibly. "Yes..." he finally relented, as Bob's grin grew slightly wider. 

"Good. I don't think I need to untie you." 

Clint winced, as he had been hoping that Bob would feel the need to give him access to his hands. Such was not to be, he realized as Bob spoke the words, before meeting his mouth in a harsh, bruising kiss. 

Bob pulled away from the kiss and reached across Clint's frame to grab the key to the handcuffs. He undid one of the handcuffs and slapped it onto his own wrist. "You're a lucky little slave. I decided that I didn't want to have to move too much. Don't want to lose too much energy. I am going to fuck you harder than you've ever dreamed of being fucked, even in your nightmares." 

Clint stared at him for a second, uncomprehending, until he felt the harsh reality of Bob's hand slamming into the side of his head jog him back into reality. "Nnng..." he groaned, his head whipping to one side. 

"Don't take too fucking long," Bob hissed, staring down on Clint with cold eyes, as the boy whimpered and lowered his lips to Bob's arm tentatively. 

Tears welled up in Clint's eyes as he 

Bob growled, almost contentedly, stretching his lanky frame out on the bed and jerking the chain roughly, pulling Clint up, where the boy immediately began moving his lithe tongue over Bob's pale skin. 

Clint shivered as Bob's fingers moved over his hair, though the touch was far from gentle. Clint could almost feel the pain and torture that lay just underneath those caressing fingertips. Licking his way gently up Bob's arm, and down to his chest, he hoped desperately that he was pleasing him. Apparently not, as Clint's head was yanked roughly away. 

"Missed a spot," Bob informed him; shoving him to the side with disgust. "God, you're not even half worth my bother." 

"I'm sorry," Clint whimpered, lowering his mouth to Bob's arm once again, hoping that this time his work would live up to expectation. 

With determination, Clint ran his tongue back and forth over every reachable part of Bob's body. He passed over most of the places several times, only wanting to please Bob and save himself a lot of pain. He could either do a half-assed job at this and risk severe punishment, or he could perform as well as he knew he was able and possibly get to enjoy part of this. 

Bob was smiling now, enjoying the feel of Clint's tongue trailing along every sensitive part of his body. But, he tired easily of that game as the sensations made his own member harden. He could have easily reached down to stroke it for himself, but he'd rather have a tongue on him than fingers. And, since Clint was already busily caressing Bob's skin with his tongue on Bob's shoulder, it wouldn't hurt too much to let Clint slack off a little and move him down to his chest and then his stomach and then to more important places where he would make up for whatever he had missed. 

Without speaking a word, Bob pushed Clint's head down slightly, indicating with his gesture where the boy should be headed. Clint took a breath before beginning to descend slowly, making sure to do at least a satisfactory job so as Bob couldn't find anything to complain about. 

Bob groaned softly and pushed Clint a little harder. Clint began to lick faster and harder, hoping that Bob was satisfied. Clint reached Bob's chest, finally, and let his tongue glance along Bob's nipple. Bob groaned harder and grabbed Clint's head with both hands and shoved him down toward his groin. "Clint, quit licking and start sucking." 

Scurrying down to his side quickly, Clint lowered his head to take Bob's shaft in partially. Determined to please, he swirled his tongue around the head for a moment, before descending further, internally growing as a dull ache in his jaw reemerged. 

Bob moaned callously as he watched Clint struggle. "Oh, Clint, c'mon... You can do better than that. Take the damn thing down your throat and then you can moan. I'll let you." 

Tears pricked once again in Clint's eyes as the dull ache turned into a throbbing fire when he forced himself to take more of Bob in than he thought possible. The culmination of bruises and past blow jobs was escalating in a torturous haze that was fairly reminiscant of holding your mouth open at the dentist's office for hours at a time. 

When Bob looked down and saw that Clint was almost swallowing him completely, he grabbed onto both sides of Clint's head and started to move himself in and out, laughing slightly every time Clint gagged and trie to pull away, only to have Bob pull him back down. Clint was exhausted and anything he might try to get away would only result in more trouble. Bob had every advantage over him and was using them all. 

He stopped trying to fight the assault after a few moments, a few tears of pain trickling down his cheeks as he closed his eyes and let Bob use him as he wished. After a while, he didn't even bother to try anymore. That is, until Bob reprimanded him harshly for failing to use his tongue. 

Clint started tonguing away madly on Bob's dick, hoping that if he came soon Clint would get to rest for a little bit. If nothing else, no one would have to complain about Clint talking too much for a few days. Bob was still going strong, though, so Clint pushed himself down as far as he could on Bob's member, feeling it stretch his throat, and began swallowing and sucking and letting his tongue move faster than he'd thought possible. 

Bob groaned in pleasure, though not all of it was from the attentions Clint was giving his member. A good portion was from the sheer control and torture he was giving the other boy, feeling the total power he had over his every move. 

Bob felt his orgasm building and let his hands fall to his sides in order to let Clint do all the work. But, Clint took the gesture to mean that Bob was through and moved his head away quickly. Bob groaned as blood started pulsing through his veins and quickly sat up and slapped Clint. Clint winced and brought a hand up to his mouth which had taken the brunt of the blow. Blood was beginning to trickle out in a shining, ruby stream and Clint brought his gaze up to meet Bob's. Bob looked down at him and slapped him again, then pulled him up for a kiss, tasting Clint's blood and enjoying every drop of it. 

Bob pulled away after a moment, his tongue lingering to lap up the last drops of blood. Scowling, he shoved Clint back. "Finish," was his only command, as he once again lay back on the bed, and Clint lowered his sore mouth over Bob's length. 

Bob felt himself building to orgasm again and grabbed the bit of Clint's hair that he could use best for leverage and closed his eyes. Clint was sobbing uncontrollably as Bob thrust his way toward freedom, leaving Clint in bondage, figuratively and literally. 

His gag reflex once again kicked in as Bob rammed into him mercilessly, bruising the back of his throat, and shoving his tongue and lips against his teeth with abandon. Tears of sheer relief coursed down his sweaty face when Bob finally came, shooting time and time again into the back of his throat, choking him, but at the same time relieving him, as he knew this part, at least, was over. 

Bob pushed Clint off of him savagely with one hand and grabbed for the handcuff key, then only bothered to unlock himself, cuffing the open side to the bedpost so that Clint still had one free hand, but couldn't do anything past masturbate with it...and he wouldn't dare do that if Bob didn't ask him to. 

Instead, he curled into a slightly fetal position, relishing in the feeling of being able to keep his mouth closed. Bob sat up next to him, surveying Clint's shaking body as he sighed. "Don't get blood on the pillow," was his first remark. "Well, not yet, anyway." 

Clint curled up even more and closed his eyes, not wanting to see Bob's face and the icy glaze over his eyes. Bob noted this and smiled. Fear was always a good way to instill thoughts and values. He reached over and stroked a finger across Clint's bottom lip and then got up off the bed in search of clothing. "Clint, you've been a good boy for a little bit, so I'm going to leave you here for a little bit and when I come back, I might just have a surprise for you." 

Clint nodded, for fear of what might happen should he choose to respond verbally. His eyes slit open just enough that he could see Bob finish donning his clothing, before walking to the door and clicking it shut, but not before making sure it would stay locked behind him. Sighing, Clint adjusted his position to perhaps alleviate a bit of the pressure Bob had placed on him. 

The time passed slowly for Clint, the seconds dragging by and weighing upon him. He felt hopeless and alone and desparate and was scaring himself with the fact that parts of him were enjoying this. He's never liked being told what to do before, but now it was intriguing, although it was painful as well. But, the pain would fade. The memories would not. 

As if to serve as a reminder that the pain was not yet fading, a crippling cramp shot through his left arm to his shoulder, causing him to cry out in agony, wishing desperately for some way to massage the ache. The cramp did not fade as he had hoped, instead it lingered, letting his mind know that his body was not happy with its current bondage, though neither could do much to change it. 

Clint was drifting off into some place between a trance and a deep sleep when the door suddenly swung open and a vaguely familar voice shouted out, "What the fuck!?" 

His sleepy eyes slit open, and he made out the tall, familiar stance of the third member of last night's trio, as Isaac stepped into the room, a look of shock apparent on his face. 

Isaac turned to Bob, his eyes wide. "Bob... What the hell have you been doing?" 

Bob smiled and closed and locked the door behind him. "I told you, Ike. I'm just teaching him how to behave. Doesn't he look good when he's black and blue?" 

Isaac gaped as Clint visibly trembled, curling himself up and trying in vain to pretend like it didn't hurt. "Clint," Bob barked at him harshly. "Don't do that." 

Clint's reflexes kicked in as he stopped his movement, lying still and watching Ike with wide, scared eyes. Isaac crossed the room in two strides, sitting beside the boy and examining the new bruises on his face and neck. 

Bob followed Isaac over, laughing quietly. "You see? He does everything that I ask. He tries to be brave and disobey sometimes, but a quick slap...a little blood...it does the trick and he obeys again. He's got delicious blood, too. Doesn't have that taste of iron that's so common. It's quite sweet, actually. I'd love to bleed him dry." 

Isaac reached out to stroke Clint's shoulder, noting that Clint flinched even when his hand came close. Looking up at Bob, Isaac shook his head softly. "Bob, you're hurting him. You've gone crazy or something. I know that having Clint come to you like that last night was fulfilling a dream of yours, but you're taking this too far. What's gonna happen when Clint has to leave this room and someone else sees those bruises?" 

Bob shrugged. "He can make something up. Or maybe..." he grinned maliciously, looking down on the boy who looked away in fear. "He won't be leaving this room." 

A long, frightened whimper escaped Clint before he had the chance to stop himself, and Isaac protectively pulled his body closer. 

Isaac began to softly stroke the side of Clint's face. "Bob... You know that none of this is right. Maybe he wanted it last night, but willing people do not flinch." 

Bob rolled his eyes and grabbed Clint's legs and pushed them into the air, then flopped down on the bed, letting Clint's legs fall into his lap. "You haven't seen the look in his eyes when I order him to suck me dry and when I tell him I'm going to fuck him raw. So, maybe I slapped him a little too hard once or twice. He's strong. He'll live." 

Isaac's eyes flared with anger, which he directed at Bob pointedly. "Bob, he's your brother. Hasn't that crossed your mind in the slightest?" 

Bob shrugged, once again. "I told you, Ike, he's fucking enjoying himself. I promise." 

Isaac shook his head again, returning his attention to Clint. "You can promise all you want. Until I see it in his eyes, I'm not believing a damn thing and you're not touching him again." 

Clint's eyes opened wide. "No..." 

Bob scraped his nails along one of Clint's legs. "What was that, Clint? Come on. Tell Ike what you think about all of this." 

Clint closed his eyes in shame. "I like it, just not when I get hit." 

Bob smiled. "See, I told you." 

Isaac's eyes remained cold as he looked Bob over slowly. "I don't want you to hit him anymore. Understand?" 

Bob's smile faded and he returned the chilly glare. "Chill, Ike. He knows that as long as he does what he's told, he doesn't get hurt. I think he really like the pain and that's why he disobeys. He's a fool if that's not how it's working." 

Ike sighed. "Bob, if you're going to continue to play your games with him just...promise me he'll be able to face you at family gatherings twenty years down the road." 

Bob snapped back, "He will if I tell him to. He's been playing the older brother for 16 frickin' years because of two minutes. He needs to learn how to be submissive. It'll be good for him." 

Clint, for some reason compelled not to see the two fight, touched Isaac's hand softly. "Ike..." he began. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. I promise." 

Isaac shook his head and looked back at Bob wearily. "Fine, Bob, have your fun. I just want to see him alive later." 

Bob smiled, grabbing Isaac's wrist as he rose. "I was kinda hoping you'd want to stick around and watch, baby." 

Isaac stood still for a moment, just meeting Bob's gaze, showing no emotion. "Bob, the only way I'm going to stick around for the 'fun' is to make sure that you don't kill him. And, don't call me baby. What the hell has gotten into you?" 

Bob looked down at Clint. "He has. Last night was...amazing. I'd been dreaming of that forever and then he started it, like it was meant to happen and now I want it to continue like how I dreamed it." 

"And you dreamt of bleeding him dry? What kind of a sicko are you?" 

Bob glared at Ike. "I'm not a sicko. I'm giving him what he wants and taking what I want at the same time." 

Isaac chose not to respond, instead he simply sighed and sat back down, taking Clint's head in his lap and stroking the boy's hair gently, much to Bob's chagrin. 

Bob stripped off his shirt and threw it across the room, pushing Clint's legs out of his lap as he stood and started taking his pants off. "Ike, it just doesn't work to train him if you're there nursing his ass every step of the way." 

Ike continued softly stroking, never looking up. "Yeah. And, it's not fun to fuck someone who's unconscious." 

Bob's eyes glazed over for a second and he stopped undressing to think. Clint recoiled, and Isaac's mouth dropped open. "Jesus, Bob, don't even think about it." 

Bob grimaced at Ike, continuing to remove the last few articles of clothing. "Fine. Bad idea, whatever. But I don't want you to sit there and hold him the whole time." 

"Just like I don't want you to sit there and beat him the whole time. No matter how much you think he wants this, there is a limit and I'm willing to bet you've gone past it more than your fair share of times." 

Bob groaned, running his fingers through his hair. He stayed motionless for a few moments, then smiled a little before speaking. "Well then, let's have Clint decide." Clint's eyes opened a little wider as Bob stood over him. "Clint. If you want, I'll uncuff you right now, and Isaac can take you away and nurse your wounds. Or, you can stay here, and let me play with you a little more. It's your choice." 

"Bob, that's not fair. He's terrified of you. You know what he's going to say," Isaac protested, as Bob held up a hand to silence him. 

Clint bit his lip and answered, wide-eyed. "I want both." 

Isaac smiled a little. "Or I could have been wrong." 

Bob sighed. "Isaac, he's not gonna learn..." 

"He's not here to learn," Isaac spoke sharply. "He's here because you tied him up, you hit him, and you are getting off on this. If he's getting pleasure out of this at all, I'm sure it's simply because it pleases you. Either you take what you can get, or I will take him out of here whether he wants to or not." 

Bob pulled off the last of his clothing in a huff. "You just don't get it, Isaac." 

Isaac looked down at Clint. "No, Bob. I just don't get off on it. I can't look at these bruises and traces of blood on him and see beauty and sexiness. I just get to picture how they got there and then get to try to wipe the images from my mind. I didn't just leave last night because of the blood. I left because Clint was going a little bit out of his mind. But, now, you're the one who's going insane and I'm not going to stand for that." 

Giving Isaac a look to kill, Bob placed his naked form on the bed, trailing a finger up and down Clint's thigh. "That's not my problem, Isaac. I'm not going to deny myself something I want just because you don't get turned on by it." 

Shaking his head, Isaac placed a soft kiss on one of the few unmarred spots on Clint's shoulder. "Maybe not, but you're trying to turn me on with it and I'm just telling you that its not going to work. I've never been into this and a set of twins with a thing for it isn't going to change my mind." 

Bob shrugged, "Suit yourself. Are you sticking around or not?" 

Sighing, Isaac looked down into Clint's wide eyes and slowly nodded. "For him, yes." 

Clint licked his lips slowly. "Thank you." 

Isaac smiled and leaned down to deliver a kiss to Clint, a seeming luxury in it's softness and gentleness. "You're welcome." 

Bob sighed. "Finished?" 

"Yes." Isaac glared at Bob for a moment. "Finished." 

"Are you going to move?" Bob indicated towards Clint's head, which was still resting in Isaac's lap. 

"Clint?" 

Pondering for a moment, Clint finally bit his lower lip nervously and nodded. "You can move." 

Bob crawled up Clint's body after Isaac climbed off to one side. He trailed tiny, harsh kisses down Clint's chest, occasionally nicking Clint with a tooth, knowing that he wouldn't cry out at that even if Isaac was there to "protect him". 

The fact that Isaac felt the need to protect him in the first place irked Bob to no end, unfortunately for them both, Bob was not in the mood to be irked. If Isaac was going to stay, he was going to get a show, and Bob was determined to give him something substantial to nurse after they were done. 

Bob lay down on top of Clint gently, then looked over at Isaac. "So, Ike, is there anything in particular that you want to see since you ruined all the fun that I had planned?" 

Isaac, who had flopped down in a chair, leaned his arm on a table and placed his chin upon it. "Bob," he sighed. "Just go ahead and have your fun. I already told you what I'm not gonna let you get away with." 

Bob scowled, "That's half the fun." 

"Then hold back for a bit and think up some new fun. Or, hell, you think he wants it so bad, just go ahead and fuck him. But, after that pounding last night, don't expect him to enjoy it too much or do much to help you get off in that respect." 

Bob smiled and got up onto his hands and knees. "Great idea, Ikey. Wanna grab me some lube, then?" 

"Where?" 

"Top drawer." Bob indicated towards the bedside stand. Isaac opened the drawer, thankful that Bob intended to use it at all, retrieved the tube of KY and tossed it into Bob's waiting hands. 

Bob grinned as he caught the tube and immediately unscrewed the lid. Backing off a little more, Bob shifted and then lifted Clint's legs onto his shoulders, readying Clint for the application of the lube. "Clint, are you ready?" 

Clint nodded, the single handcuff still holding him to the bed jingling slightly. 

Bob quickly spread the lube on himself, and placed it around Clint's rectum as well. He contemplated, for a moment, warming him up with a finger, but decided against it. Isaac may have gotten him to use the lube, but he wouldn't be depriving Bob of all his pleasure. 

Clint figured on Bob's train of thought and readied himself for a jolt of pain. It came quickly as Bob lined himself up and plunged in savagely. Isaac was immediately at the bedside watching the scene with hate in his eyes. 

Clint met Isaac's eyes and shook his head slightly, to prevent Isaac from taking any further action. Instead, the boy reached out and grabbed onto his hand, clamping down as each new wave of pain rolled through his body. Bob waited only a moment after his initial thrust to begin pushing in and out of Clint mercilessly. 

The pain arrived within Clint in waves. It radiated up from Bob's contact point to his chest where it seemed to stop and gather, as though he had a tidepool forming just beneath his ribs. He was squeezing Isaac's hand harder and harder, hoping that Bob was getting off a little extra on the situation and would be done shortly. 

Bob paused for a moment to catch his breath, smiling a little at the pain he saw amplified in Clint's features. His smile soon turned into a scowl as he noticed Isaac's hand firmly grasping Clint's, letting the boy relieve his tension the best way he knew how. Bent on giving Clint something to release, Bob began pounding into him with abandon, relishing the sound of the first cries as they left his throat. 

Isaac felt Clint's grip loosen as he cried out some mixture of orgasmic and torturous release. But, Clint soon clamped his mouth shut and returned to gripping Isaac's hand for dear life while occasionally letting loose with a muffled groan. 

Bob soon lost himself in the release of his second orgasm that day, pumping into Clint one final, hard time and letting himself go. Clint's grip loosened as his cries turned into choked sobs of release, as he felt Bob's warm seed fill him and knew that it was over, for the time being. 

Bob pulled out quickly and began to walk off toward the television. Isaac turned toward and asked, "Where are you going?" 

Turning back a bit, Bob laughed. "Just to watch some television. Have fun with him. I know I did. You're a good little slut, Clint. Always remember that."

 

As Bob retreated, Clint's cries turned into sobs, which he let loose with no abandon, trying desperately to move his body closer to Isaac's, though the handcuffs ultimately prevented it. 

Isaac took in the scene before him and began to search around for the key to the handcuffs. He found it lying on the floor and promptly undid the cuff holding Clint captive, then pulled Clint into his lap, hugging the bruised, sobbing boy to his chest and stroking his skin softly. 

"It hurts," he whispered finally, bringing his red-rimmed eyes up to gaze into Isaac's concerned brown ones. "Ike, it hurts." 

Isaac closed his eyes for a moment, not wanting Clint to see the anger radiating in them. "I know," he whispered, running a smooth finger over the boy's lips. 

Bob looked over from where he was watching the previous night's video continue it's run on the television. "Oh, guys, how touching. Really. It just makes my little heart ache and..." 

Isaac cut him off. "The only way your heart would ache would be if somebody cracked the ice on it." 

"Ooo... harsh, Ikey! Why don't you fuck Clint next? That'll get a nice set of screams out of him." 

"Shut up," Ike growled. "You had your fun, Bob. It's my turn now." 

Bob rolled his eyes. "So I have to sit here and listen to it?" 

"If I may remind you, I had to sit there and watch it." Isaac caught his breath. "So, fuck off." 

"And, if I may remind you, Isaac, you had every opportunity to leave. And, I'm not gonna fuck off. I just fucked Clint." Bob's grin was stretched across his face and his eyes were wide with passion. 

Clint whimpered and huddled into Isaac, who cradled him while staring Bob down. "Such tact, Bob. And must you watch that?" 

Bob shrugged. "Quality entertainment." 

Isaac smirked. "More like the last time your brother's ever going to look at you with anything other than absolute fear in his eyes." 

Bob shifted slightly so that he met Isaac's glare a little better. "Maybe that's what I want." 

Isaac shook his head. "Maybe you're a complete and utter fool and Clint should spend the night with me." 

Bob laughed. "And maybe you'd like to explain the bruises." 

"Yeah. Maybe I would." 

"Take him, then." Bob's eyes flared once more. 

"Ike..." Clint spoke softly, almost inaudibly. 

"What are you going to do, Bob? Tell on us? Say I raped him? Hurt him? You could do a lot of damage, and I bet you'd love it." 

Bob snorted, "Yeah, I would. It'd be nice to see the look on Dad's face when I tell him what I saw." 

"Ike..." Clint tried again, his voice a little bit more forceful. 

"They can't prove anything, idiot. Clint would vouch for me." 

"Clint will do whatever I tell him to do, won't you, Clint?" Both boys turned their attention to Clint, who face was by now contorted in pain. 

"Ike..." he tried for a third time as Isaac tried to stifle his gasp. "There's something...with me...and it hurts and..." he winced, and a small trickle of blood ran from the side of his mouth. "Help?" 

Isaac immediately grasped the sides of Clint's face gently. "Clint, open your mouth as wide as you can." 

Clint shook his head, beginning to breathe heavily. "No..." 

"C'mon, Clint. I just need to get a look in your mouth real quick. I won't hurt you like him. You can trust me." 

Clint's bottom lip began to shake and he hesitantly opened his mouth as far as he could, feeling that dull ache in his jaw again. But, Isaac had removed his hands and Clint closed his mouth, his breath still coming quickly. Isaac hugged Clint close once more and looked over at Bob who seemed to have a hint of worry in his eyes. "Bob, he has a broken tooth and even the inside of his mouth is bloody and bruising. What the hell did you do to him before I got here? No... Don't tell me. I don't think I want to know. Bob... This is your brother and what you are doing is called abuse." 

Bob was quick to jump to his own defense. "He didn't say no! Dammit, he never once told me no." 

Sighing, Isaac wiped the small trail of blood from Clint's face. "He didn't have to tell you to stop. Were the tears and the blood and the fear and the screaming not enough?" 

Bob began to shake quietly, his movements erratic. "No... That's all he had to say. He wanted it. He did! I could look at him and see it. He didn't say a damn thing... Oh, God... What have I done?" 

Isaac looked down at the small form huddled in his lap, then brought his gaze back up to meet Bob's now frightened eyes. "You fucked up, Bob." 

A low moan escaped his throat as he looked over Clint's broken body and his mind finally registered the damage he had inflicted. 

Tears began to well up in Bob's eyes;, one tear for every drop of blood that Clint had shed; one aching sob for every bruise he had sustained. 

The worst part was knowing that there was no one to hold him. No one to give him redemption and comfort, and no one to tell him everything was going to be alright. 

As Clint watched Bob crumble before him, tears once again began their flow from his eyes. "I hurt him," he whispered. "Oh, God, I fucked it up again." 

"No," Isaac whispered, kissing his cheek gently. "This isn't about you." 

Clint whimpered and let his forehead rest in the crook of Isaac's neck as Bob's sobs grew louder and more punctuated. "Isaac... I don't want him to hurt, too." 

Isaac stared in disbelief at the unbelievable compassion coming from this broken boy. "Clint, look at what he did to you..." 

Clint's voice was firm. "Ike, no one deserves to come to that type of realization on their own. Even Bob." 

Isaac looked hesitantly over at Bob who was grasping his hair in his hands and bawling his eyes out quite vocally. Gently sliding Clint off of his lap, Isaac walked over and picked up Bob's limp form and transferred it to the bed next to Clint. "Here, Clint. If you want to console him, go ahead. He's pissed me off far too much to give him any sort of sympathy." 

Clint nodded, sliding an arm around the sobbing body of his brother. "Bob..." he whispered, "Bob, look at me." He tilted the boy's chin so that the red-rimmed brown eyes were now staring into those which were mirror images. 

"Bob... yes, you hurt me. But, I did like it a little bit and I didn't say no. You should feel bad about taking it so far, but don't beat yourself up over it just because I'm going to be sore for a while." 

Bob's tore his gaze from Clint's as he clung to him, sniffling softly and letting a tear fall every so often. "Clint, I...I. Oh God," he began, looking at Clint's shoulder to begin with, then letting his gaze travel all over his body. "Don't hate me," he whimpered. "I didn't know what I was doing. I mean, I did but...please don't hate me, Clint." 

Clint kissed his brother on the forehead calmly. "Bob, take a few deep breaths. I don't know if I can ever forgive you, but I don't hate you. I know how quickly the passion can get to you and take over your mind and by the time you realize it, you're lying on the ground, either crying or bleeding." 

Bob nodded slowly, his body lulled by Clint gently rocking him. "I won't ask you to forgive me, and I can't justify what I did in any way, shape, or form." He paused to change the direction of his speech. "How are you so much stronger than me? How can you be near me..." 

Clint shook his head and pressed his head to Bob's, holding him close. "I don't know. Maybe its the two minutes of life that I've supposedly been holding over your head all your life. You do realize that up until we were eight, I though you were older, right?" 

Bob looked up with quiet surprise registering on his features. "No. I always thought you knew you were." 

"Well, there you go." Clint smiled a little, rubbing slow circles on the small of Bob's back. 

Ike smiled at the scene, though he was still rather upset with Bob over the whole ordeal. Leaning in, he kissed each boy's forehead and began to walk off. Clint called out softly, "Ike, where are you going?" 

"Out. I don't think you need me anymore." 

"No..." Clint agreed. "But that doesn't mean we don't want you." 

Ike's smiled widened. "I'll be back, I promise." 

Clint nodded softly and closed his eyes as he leaned back against Bob. The pain that he was feeling was still evident, but the dull ache wasn't there anymore and he wasn't bound up like an animal, so things would be all right. 

Bob's gaze followed Isaac to the door, and he watched it until it had clicked shut. Stroking Clint's hair, he noticed the silver shackle still attached to the bed. "We should probably get rid of that," he mused. 

Clint nodded slowly, then watched as Bob grabbed the key and slid it into the lock. "Yeah. We should. Where in the hell did you buy those things anyway? They're, like, industrial strength or something." 

Bob held up the gleaming silver objects, then laughed. "Hmm? Oh, no. These are Ike's handcuffs."


End file.
